Chapter 4 - The Midnight Ride
An hour later, Elena’s beat-up 2010 sedan was parked behind a sleek, black Maybach carrying Marcus’s private security detail, though Marcus had insisted on driving them himself in a rented luxury SUV.
Sophia had fallen asleep in the back seat, her head resting against a soft cashmere blanket Marcus had produced from his trunk, still clutching the crushed white flower.
They drove through the quiet, moss-draped streets of Savannah, heading toward the modest, working-class neighborhood where Elena and her mother lived.
“You didn't have to follow us home,” Elena said quietly, staring out the passenger window as the streetlights cast dancing shadows across her face.
“I wanted to,” Marcus replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “Besides, I need to see where Alberto lived. I need to pay my respects.”
When they pulled up to the small, single-story house with peeling white paint and a neatly kept porch, the front light flickered on. The door opened slowly, and an elderly woman with silver hair pulled back in a net peered out anxiously into the night.
“Elena? Is that you? Why are you so late—?”
Her words cut off as Marcus stepped out of the driver’s side and walked into the circle of light cast by the porch lamp.
Margaret Reyes stopped breathing.
She stared at the tall, broad-shouldered man in the crisp white shirt, taking in the sharp jawline and the intense, familiar gaze.
“My God,” Margaret whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. “You’re... you’re the boy from the garage. You’re Marcus.”
May you like
Marcus felt a lump form in his throat. He walked up the porch steps, stopped in front of her, and without a single word of hesitation, wrapped his arms around the elderly woman, pulling her into a tight, grounding embrace.
Margaret wept softly into his shoulder, murmuring, “Alberto always said you’d fly high, boy. He always knew.”
